


But There Had Always Been Magic

by Lillifred



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, The Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4179513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillifred/pseuds/Lillifred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alanna was boyish. Thom was the odd kid.</p>
<p>“He doesn’t even speak,” they said. Although Thom <em>did </em>speak a whole lot. Most of the words he shared, he shared with Alanna. She had plans, told him stories. He provided her with concepts. Logical structures that spanned great distances, that connected ideas which had had no point of contact ever before. Thom could fall in love with a word and forget the story it belonged to.</p>
<p>But there had always been magic. People were cruel. Magic was divine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But There Had Always Been Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about bullying. You should not read it if you're triggered by bullying/abuse, ableist slurs or by hatred towards people. Also, Roger makes an appearance being Roger (which is abusive and manipulative). In the end, Thom dies. If you need any moral in your stories the moral of this one is that you should not bully. Never ever bully. It might kill someone. Thank you.

**Part One – But there had always been magic**

 

Alanna was boyish. Thom was the odd kid.

 

“He doesn’t even speak,” they said. Although Thom _did_ speak a whole lot. Most of the words he shared, he shared with Alanna. She had plans, told him stories. He provided her with concepts. Logical structures that spanned great distances, that connected ideas which had had no point of contact ever before. Thom could fall in love with a word and forget the story it belonged to.

 

Thom was afraid of meeting people for the first time in a day because he knew he would forget to greet them _again_.

 

Once Alanna asked him why he told her stories without any people in it. Without any protagonists. He was unable to explain it in a way that satisfied him. Or her.

 

_Only monsters tell stories without any people_. Without any human touch. Well, I am not the monster in this equation, Thom thought.

 

But there had always been magic. Magic he could explore without limit. He could create a light the size and colour that he liked. He could make things disappear and reappear at will. He could _create_. He could _see_. He knew about things that were greater, more _beautiful_ than anything his bullies would ever know about. With magic, he could never go wrong. Magic worked for him.

 

Whenever Alanna was not around the other kids called Thom names. _Idiot, psycho, he-who-can’t-be-touched-because-he’ll-contaminate-everyone-of-us-with-his-disease, retard_. They spat at him, pulled his hair, kicked him. They took his things and threw pebble at him. They treated him as if he wasn’t human.

 

It was not one of them. It was _almost everyone_. And they did it _every day_.

 

They knew his father wouldn’t care. Or worse: He wouldn’t believe Thom. The other kids were so much more skilled in looking innocent. Alanna would have believed him. But Thom was too ashamed to ever tell her.

 

It was horrible. It was horrible because Thom knew that he was not in charge of anything that was happening to him at all. It was horrible because Thom didn’t feel like a person. He felt like a thing to be abused at the whim of other kids, a pastime for those too bored to find pleasure in anything meaningful.

 

Thom was _scared_.

 

Magic gleamed and glistened. Magic _was_.

 

He _knew_ it wasn’t his fault. But it felt so much like it _was_.

 

People were cruel. Magic was divine.

 

It was easy for Thom to look stupid. He wasn’t interacting much. Instead of wondering about his abilities, people chose to assume he was stupid. As a very young kid this had bothered him. Later he learned that it might be good to hide his true abilities from the world. A stupid child was picked on and bullied, but at least there was a chance for pity. A gifted child might be feared beyond measure and burned at the stake.

 

Thom felt more safe knowing he had a means of protection that no one knew about. He was always ahead on his knowledge about the true balance of powers, compared to the people he feared.

 

Thom lived for magic. Maybe a little for Alanna. Maybe even for the beautiful things he desired that would await him at court one day, for the shallow conversations he would have, after he learned how to deal with people. But mostly, he lived for magic.

 

Thom preferred showing Alanna glimpses of his mind with his gift to speaking. The people didn’t know about that. They laughed at him for being afraid of talking to strangers. They mocked him for forgetting about saying please and thank you and good morning, about calling a Sir a Sir and calling a Lady a Lady.

 

But there had always been magic. Magic was beautiful. Not a means to an end. A revelation in and of itself.

 

Thom didn’t know what the important difference was between a Sir and a common man. The Sirs told him something about honor. But he knew that there were Sirs who talked about him as if he was not human and as if he could not hear, and he didn’t see anything honorable in that behavior at all.

 

Thom was afraid of smiling people because he knew that a smile could be fake. A smiling person didn’t need to be _nice_.

 

He couldn’t even imagine the important distinction between a Sir and a Lady. Sometimes he overheard conversation about a man who dressed in women’s clothes. In the voices of the people speaking he heard a hatred that rang all too familiar. It didn’t make sense to him. How could clothes that were perfectly fine, even _required_ for one person be a _death sentence_ for the next person? There was no logic behind this. Nothing that fitted with any of the bright ideas he had.

 

But there had always been magic. _Magic_.

 

He just couldn’t _show_ anyone. Tell anyone besides Alanna (who couldn’t tell anyone else about her whish of becoming a knight either) about the thing most important to him.

 

Thom was afraid of people’s opinions. About people they didn’t like, about magic, about behavior they didn’t understand. Because these opinions were illogical and violative. _And everyone believed them._

 

He couldn’t defend himself with magic. They would be too afraid. They would get a mage more powerful than him and kill him. He had to wait for the day when he was the most powerful sorcerer in the world.

 

He was certain that was what he would be, one day.

 

He feared that Alanna would be ridiculed if she trained to become a knight. That was the reason he was initially opposed to them trading places. Later, he was proud of his sister. And glad that she didn’t give in to his concerns.

 

In the palace he was not trying to save the world, like his sister did, changing opinions on women’s behavior and bringing dominion jewels home. He was trying to enjoy himself. And he felt that he had every right to do so.

People thought that he was too proud of being the most gifted sorcerer around. He was.

 

He was a person. He could talk with people. People looked at him like a person. Some of them even admired him. He was so proud of that, also. He remembered a time when he hadn’t thought that this was possible. It had not been long ago. Not long ago _enough_.

 

Thom would not have been able to resurrect Roger if he had feared him too much. He did fear him. But he had known children before that that he had feared _more_. He had had to deal with those, and he did.

 

**Part two – No magic no more**

 

“Why are you taking my magic away from me?”

“I wouldn’t do it if you hadn’t brought me back.”

“Will you let me survive?”

“I haven’t seen a man survive his own pride, including myself.”

Thom didn’t care much about dying. He had become too tired to maintain a stable will to live. Besides that he felt a presence of Roger’s magic in his head that prevented him from forming any strong opinion. Oddly enough, being nearly unable to feel emotion, the loss of his magic did bother him.

“I fear that I haven’t reached my full potential yet.”

“Are you implying that you are able to do greater things than raising a man from the dead?” Thom nodded in reply. Roger caressed Thom’s far too hot face.

“I’ll make sure your gift won’t be wasted.” Thom felt a flash of relief that flew through Roger’s fingers with his magic directly into his mind.

“Thank you.”

“I have to thank you.”

 

But there had always been magic. It was not a convenient weapon to kill a king with. It had its own ways to change the course of the world, almost its own will. And it was friends with Thom. Or so he thought.

 

The force of Thom’s magic that poured into Roger’s mind completely took him by surprise. Thom sent him something. It was not an accusation. Or hate. It was a glimpse of all the things far greater than anything he, or (he was sure about that) any mage besides Thom had ever seen. It was a glimpse of the way magic was constructed, of the reasons why the gift worked, of the magical possibilities that lay ahead for future mages to explore. He had never experienced anything this fascinating in either of his lives. Even the prospect of becoming king paled in comparison.

When it stopped, Roger looked at Thom. What he saw was not an almost dead body, but something, _somebody_ far greater.

 

Thom saw the look in Roger’s face. It was the last thing that would ever make him truly satisfied.

Well, it better should, since Thom had resurrected him partly because he _knew_ Roger would understand.

In response, Roger withdrew all his magic from Thom’s head. Instantly, his fear of death and his will to survive and his hatred of Roger returned to him.

It was the most cruel thing that was ever done to Thom, but it was a gesture of respect.

 

But there had always been magic. Until his death. Then were was no magic – no more. Not for him.


End file.
